


Fear the Fall

by Fancyfrenchie



Series: Slaveverse [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Master/Slave, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 17:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10252934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancyfrenchie/pseuds/Fancyfrenchie
Summary: Galen knows the changes to the Death Star Plans make it vulnerable. But he is the only one who knows, and he needs to keep it that way. When he's called forth to a public meeting to discuss his changes to the Death Star Plans, Krennic decides to have a little fun with it. To prevent his "nervousness", of course.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Slaveverse:
> 
> -Galen becomes a slave of the Empire following Lah'mu  
> -Galen wears a collar that shocks him upon disobedience  
> -Galen's Master is Orson Krennic
> 
> (Written by the author of From the Fragments and is set in the same universe of said piece. Beta'd and posted by me. Co-writers added upon account creation.)

“Nervous?”

Galen jerks, not having realised that anyone else was in the room with him. He quickly stills, cursing himself inwardly. Master doesn't notice his error, or at least doesn't choose to make an issue of it.

Yet at least. 

Galen breathes shallowly and tries to push down his nerves, but his collar begins to burn as he ignores the question. When he can no longer ignore the growing pain he nods reluctantly.  

“Don't worry, you'll do great. And I'll help you relax.” 

Galen tries not to let his breath out of him in a sigh at Master’s words, and allows himself to be maneuvered over towards Master’s room.

Later when Master is lying back and almost asleep while Galen has been allowed to remain in the bed with him, he begins to fidget with anxiety over the meeting that he has to attend in the morning.

He goes over and over the reasons he has concocted for changing the schematics. In reality it will leave the Death Star vulnerable once completed, but he must ensure that none of the men he will be defending his work to  _ ever  _ realise this.

He also has to keep Master from becoming suspicious at his nerves and getting a second opinion on his word. He doubts that Master would, and he thinks that the flaws in the design are subtle enough that it  _ probably  _ wouldn't be noticed unless it was being looked for.

_ Probably. _

It pains him to leave his fate and the eventual fates of worlds hanging, balanced precariously on a mere probability, but he has no power here. He never has.

“Still worried?” Master sounds drowsy, but Galen feels his heart rate tick up, despite knowing that Master would be anything but languid if he suspected Galens treachery.

“I hate public speaking,” he replies softly; it's the best kind of response these days, a truthful one. An answer that will not trigger the collar and one he can deliver with enough sincerity to be believed.

Master rolls over and presses his face into Galen’s bare shoulder, tugging the sheets as he does so. He hums thoughtfully into Galen’s flesh and out of the corner of his eye, Galen can see Master’s blue eyes narrowing and his eyebrows drawing down.

Galen fights to keep his body lax and his breathing even as, internally, his panic kicks up a notch as he considers that maybe Master has figured him out.

“Just picture the audience naked, and if that doesn't work don't worry just ground yourself by thinking of something else.” 

Master sounds so pleased with himself that Galen immediately senses the trap, but he can't work out what or where.

“Turn over.” Master taps at his hip, and Galen obediently flops over onto his belly, watching warily over his shoulder as he does. 

“Spread your legs.”

Swallowing and repressing a shudder at the memories of the numerous times he's heard that statement, Galen obeys

Master immediately sits across the backs of his parted thighs, letting his own solid thighs bracket Galen’s slighter frame. Master runs his hands over his arse, his thumbs in the crease with his fingers splayed over the rounded curves. Master digs his thumbs deeper and deeper on every pass. Galen instinctively digs his crotch into the mattress in front of him, seeking escape, and is stilled by the fingers digging hard into the muscles of his arse.

The thumbs spread him, a gust of breath ripples across his hole, and he clenches. A finger rubs at him where he's still loose and slick with Master’s spend which is still dripping free of his body in fits and starts.

Master slides two fingers into him, in one quick jab of his wrist and Galen forces himself to relax and accept the intrusion into his body. The fingers spread and scissor, rubbing and opening him. 

The mattress dips as Master leans over his back, and Galen digs his fingers into the covers waiting for the breach for the second time. 

Instead, Master opens the cabinet beside his bed and searches. Galen watches him curiously; he feels wet enough to not require more lubricant, although it's always easier with extra; it's rare that's he's provided with it. He wonders what Master is looking for.

Master rummages for a few moments, then beams widely and pulls back. He's got a small black oval in his hands, and at the sight of it, Galen relaxes. He's taken much bigger objects than whatever it is that Master is holding.

Master sits back over his thighs again, and pushes three fingers into him this time. He spends a couple of moments roughly fucking Galen with them, before he pulls them out and wipes them on the sheets. Galen smothers a sigh at the thought of the stains he will be made to try and clean out.

The oval is pressed up against his hole and Master’s free hand presses against his tailbone, firmly keeping him in place. The object is pushed firmly into him and the fingers enter after it, pressing it right up inside his body.

To his amazement, the fingers retreat, and he realised the device must have a string, as it's tugged from within him gently. It moves downwards a little, but doesn't leave him, and the fingers burrow back into him and press it higher again.

“Alright, that stays in,” Master tells him, leaning forwards so his chest is resting on Galen’s back and his hand is by Galen's face on the mattress. He nods awkwardly, wondering if it's a new kind of plug. Master has made him wear a plug before, telling him that it kept his spend inside and that it would remind Galen who he belonged to.

“Come on then, let's get you dressed.” 

Galen rolls obediently off the bed and steps at once into his jumpsuit. He twitches his hips subtly as he works the zipper up, testing to see how much he can feel the object inside him, how much it restricts him.

It's not so bad, he can feel it but it doesn't hurt. Once he gets used to it, he'll hardly be aware of it, he thinks, relieved.

Master pulls his uniform on leisurely and spends a few moments smoothing his hair down and ensuring his appearance is perfect. Like the High Ranking Imperial he is and not like he'd just spent the last hour making use of a slave.

When he's finished, he puts a hand between Galens shoulder blades and presses him along. Galen moves obediently, focusing his mind on the meeting to come and the explanations he's come up with.

When they arrive at the meeting room there are already people there, milling about and chatting to each other. More than a few turn to stare at him and he fights not to hunch his shoulders, grateful for the layer of his jumpsuit between his skin and their eyes and hands. He silently prays that he will be allowed to keep it.

Once everyone has arrived, a droid begins to hand out the latest design schematics, and Master clears his throat to draw the attention of the room. Silence falls and all eyes turn to him. Galen swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and wills his voice not to shake and greets the room before drawing their attention to the first of the changes he's made. He likes to talk at length about inconsequential changes to bore them all. Normally, by the time he gets into shaky grounds, everyone’s eyes have glazed over and he can see them thinking about hometime and freedom.

He talks through his first points, his focus only on the information that he has to deliver, when the device inside him buzzes. 

It's a movement he almost hears rather than feels, subtle, but pressed so close to his prostate, it causes a ripple of goosebumps to break out over his skin. His voice catches, stuttering on the words, fighting the urge to gasp as pleasure ripples over him.

For a long moment; he stares down at him notes, his heart rate spiking as he works out what's happened and from the jolt of arousal that had run through him from the toys stimulation.

But he can't stop; he's been ordered to give this meeting, so he can stop unless he's finished or he's ordered otherwise. He doesn't dare look at Master for fear or giving himself away in front of a room with a search for his vulnerabilities...the chinks in his armour...like a shark searches for blood.

He stumbles through the next point and the next, his muscles clenching tighter and tighter as he waits.

A longer, more sustained jolt drills into him, knocking the air from his lungs, and when he tries to deliver his reasoning on the next adaptation, his voice comes out lower pitched than normal and he sounds breathier too. His voice catches and breaks as he struggles to end the sentence and keep his hips from jerking under the stimulation. 

He shifts his weight from side to side, which is a mistake he discovers when the device fires again, as it's now resting directly on his prostate and relentlessly putting pressure on the tiny gland.

Galen feels sweat beginning to bead on his skin, and reaches out to grip the stand, and his notes are on on both hands. He fights to keep his hips from moving as the buzzing starts and stops in intermittent bursts.

He can't think beyond that fact that he's getting hard, and shame and fear war within him. But it doesn't change the fact that with every vibration, the blood pools in his groin and his breathing grows more ragged and his head feels lighter and lighter.

He can't stop his hips from jerking now, as the stimulation is applied, the vibrations coming with greater intensity and for longer stretches.

He doesn't know what he's talking about anymore; he's just hoping the words he's memorized are pouring out of his mouth. 

He's only really aware of the arousal in the pit of his belly, the heat building in his groin.

He knows it doesn't matter either, no one is listening to him, they are gazing at him, with either lust or disgust on their face.

He can see his own hands, fingers bloodless, knuckles white holding onto the stand for dear life as the vibrator continues to stimulate him constantly now.

The intensity varies but it never shuts off, and his voice is coming quicker, 

His heart's beating faster,

His hips rolling into non existent friction desperately,

Sweat rolling down his back,

His groins throbbing increases to the point of pain,

His breath coming in pants,

His back bows as the intensity picks up to the highest strength yet, and it feels like continuous pressure on his prostate and he can feel his erection strain and throb and jerk under the onslaught.

The virbraor cuts off all of a sudden, and he nearly sobs at the loss while his mind reels desperately for something to say. He doesn't even know if he's been talking for the last minute or so. He sifts desperately through his mind and closes on the last point. He doesn't know if he's covered them all.

Just as he opens his mouth to explain his reasoning for the materials he's requested the vibrator sparks into life. 

It judders into him, rapidly, and he he gets no warning as his balls tug close up towards his body, and liquid fire runs down his spine while he comes with a moan.

He stands, the eyes of the whole room on him, as he shivers through the aftershocks, his whole body twitching and shuddering.

Then someone claps, and suddenly the whole room applauds, laughs, and wolf whistles, all the while as shame rolls over him and his clothes stick to him and the come on his body goes cool and sticky.


End file.
